28 Bulletin 8 



tween our Northern hairy and the downy, the latter of which is 

 common. 



A delightful surprise comes when one chances upon a flock of the 

 dainty ground doves, pigeons less than seven inches in length, but 

 rarely beautiful in dove-gray plumage, coral-red bills, and pink feet. 

 They are fearless and companionable, feeding quietly in gardens and 

 roosting at night in orange trees, from which their soft cooing notes 

 rise and fall in tender cadences. A larger representative of the same 

 family, the mourning dove of the North, is often seen in flocks feeding 

 in waste flelds. Florida quail are plentiful and their power of con- 

 cealment is marvellous. If flushed, they fly, taking to low trees, and 

 sharp, indeed, are the eyes that can detect one after they have alighted. 

 Just so in the grass — at one moment you see ten — twenty — thirty — 

 and lo — they have every one vanished as if by magic. 



The Florida wren, similar to the Carolina, though larger and 

 darker, makes the swamps resound with its loud cry of "whee-udel, 

 whee-udel-whee-udel." Difficult is it to locate or to get even a passing 

 glimpse of this restless bird, whose note so persistently calls attention 

 to it. For a long, long time I sought for it in vain, and it was only 

 a few days before my return home that I was finally rewarded by a 

 splendid view of it and its funny, nervous antics. The long-billed 

 marsh wren lives in tall grasses near water holes, and, in similar 

 haunts, the South Maryland yellow throat, or "Palmetto bird" finds a 

 secluded home. The water thrush is frequently seen on the borders 

 of cypress swamps and even within the limits of the village, its dipping 

 motions and streaked yellow under parts making it easy of identifica- 

 tion. 



At night, besides the humming sound of many insects, comes the 

 soft 0000000000 of the Southern screech owl, from two to ten 

 voices, answering and echoing, now far, now near, in softest harmony, 

 while perhaps from the very oleander at your door, a voice strikingly 

 bold and human in its enunciation, calls "Chuck-Will's-Widow, Chuck- 

 Will's-Widow, Chuck-Will's-Widow." This Southern representative of 

 our whip-poor-will may sometimes be flushed from his day-time sleeping 

 place — an old stump or log — and then by a hoarse cluck, reveals him- 

 self a bigger and brighter brown bird than our own. Not to mention 

 the Florida crow would be a grave omission, since of its tribe it is 

 certainly unique. It looks as if it had never had a square meal in its 

 life and its voice in one complaining rasp testifies to that fact. 



